


Four Stages of Delusion

by Samsara



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Bottom Reiner, Introspection, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Stream of Consciousness, Top Bertholdt, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsara/pseuds/Samsara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Reiner loses himself, Bertholdt feels like vomiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Stages of Delusion

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a piece to vent about some stuff for a person I have feelings for. Kind of feeling like I'm in Bertholdt's position in that this person I care for seems totally unreachable right now. Maybe this piece will help me reach them, idk.

When Reiner loses himself, Bertholdt feels like vomiting. The way he goes is always in a few stages and after a few years Bertholdt had learned how to pick up on each nauseating shift and crunch in his personality. Sure, he still harbored much of the same personality, but the world that created the personality was not the world that he and Reiner had known. There were four stages of Reiner losing himself and when it happened, Bertholdt always had to act quickly. Usually, it would be something slight, such as how Reiner referred to himself. To others they wouldn’t have noticed a change in the slightest, but Bertholdt was keen to know what trigger words he had to look out for. Soldier. Brotherhood. Friends. Words like that were a sign to Bertholdt that he needed to act in that very moment to remind Reiner of who he is before things got too hazy in the mind of the more brutish shifter.

He usually had the rest of the day, sometimes the next to influence him to remember who he was. A titan with a mission. He and Bertholdt were on this mission together to bring down the walls, and then they could go home. Every time Reiner began to lose track of himself, that was Bertholdt’s first argument the second they were alone. His long, almost skeletal fingers grasped the fabric of Reiner’s jacket as they stood, secluded from everyone. Sometimes between buildings, or in the empty barracks, or even in a cluster of trees while the other soldiers completed their drills.

“This isn’t you!” Bertholdt would muster up the courage to say to him as he stared into Reiner’s golden eyes for some hint of the man he knew. “We aren’t soldiers, Reiner, please just listen to me. Remember who we are!” Sometimes Reiner would let those words click and in his head he would figure it out quickly and he’d place a caring hand over Bertholdt’s and smile.

“Thank you.” He said with a confident smirk. “I don’t know what came over me.”

But Bertholdt knew what came over him. It was this disease of humanity as it sunk into his skull and his veins, only to crawl to the surface and spread like gangrene. Why Bertholdt hadn’t succumbed to the same, he couldn’t tell. He just knew that this was not Reiner. His Reiner. This was not the other shifter who had torn down Wall Maria with him five years earlier. This was someone who was going mad. All because they had to immerse themselves in a human life. When Reiner loses himself, Bertholdt feels more alone than ever.

If those first words didn’t get through to Reiner early enough, Bertholdt can’t do much after that. Instead, he simply would remain closer to Reiner than before, keeping constant watch over him in anticipation of him fucking everything up and revealing their secrets. By the time his head became hazy, Reiner usually didn’t even remember what they were. He was too focused on being a good soldier and a good human than a good companion to Bertholdt.

All Bertholdt could do at that point was observe and try to hang on to him. What if this was for good? What if he had lost Reiner for the last time? The thoughts as they overcame him were usually too much to handle and he’d find himself crying and the most inconvenient moments. Practicing drills, lining up in the mess halls, taking showers.  All he could do at that point was bury his face in his hands and sob until the tears ran dry. Sometimes he wouldn’t even have tears left.

To be utterly alone in this world was awful. When Reiner was by his side, he at least had someone he could rely on. When Reiner was by his side, he could at least feel like they were going somewhere. When Reiner was by his side, he had someone to assure him that they were going to go through this together and make it back home. To Bertholdt, who had been so skeptical about returning home, he rationalized that going home was more likely than Reiner regaining his sense of self.

Stage two usually began the night after Reiner had slipped into his delusions again. When he and Bertholdt shared their bunk, instead of letting Reiner slip his hands around his waist from behind and hold him close, Bertholdt would face him, searching for hints of the man he knew in those gold eyes again. He’d place his hand on Reiner’s cheek, watching how each eye would dart over to quickly examine his hand before they stared directly ahead at Bertholdt, curious and almost worrisome.

“I know you’re in there, Reiner.” Bertholdt would say, choking on his own dry sobs as they clung to the inside of his throat. “I know you’re in there and you can come out of this fantasy any second now.” Sometimes this would work. And when it worked, Bertholdt’s arms would slip around Reiner’s neck and they’d slowly strip one another of their clothing before Bertholdt was laid out on the mattress and Reiner made love to him. They never cared if someone heard them. Everyone knew and no one paid any mind.

He’d run his hands over the olive flesh of Bertholdt’s chest, as if trying to memorize how his body had changed since their last romp in the sheets. Then he’d run his hands over his shoulders and biceps, all the way to his hands, which his fingers enclosed around tightly before he’d bring each one to his lips and kiss them lovingly, apologizing for losing control of himself again. It was  always the first of many tender moments they shared when Bertholdt could snap him out of his trance. It would then follow delicate kisses that would gradually become passionate ones that eventually turned into the two simply running their tongues together in a heated, sloppy exchange of saliva. After the proper preparations, Reiner lifted Bertholdt up by the hips and slid him close so he was properly elevated on to Reiner’s lap. And then, Reiner would enter him, pushing as deep as he possibly could before he wrapped his arms around Bertholdt and held on to him like a lifeline.

“Thank you.” He’d murmur between hefty breaths as he gasped into Bertholdt’s ear. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Exhausted and spent after their embrace, Bertholdt would lie face to face with Reiner and just continue to touch his cheek, desperately hoping that maybe the more he touched him, the longer he would remain himself.  Grateful, Reiner would kiss him. Again. And again. And again until they went to sleep.

Sometimes Reiner would wake up the same person. Sometimes he relapsed. Depending on which usually determined if Bertholdt was going to vomit that morning.

When Reiner didn’t miraculously slip out of his trance, Bertholdt simply held his position in the bed and kiss him lightly. Reiner still knew about their relationship when his delusions struck, but he only saw them as lovers. Not emotional life support. When Reiner loses himself, Bertholdt feels like he’s loving the wrong person.

Stage three is usually the direct opposite of stage one. Bertholdt watched Reiner as he pulled on the complete façade of the good ole soldier boy, and occasionally would slip into moments of clarity. When he said something only the Reiner Bertholdt knew would say, instinctively, he would turn to face Bertholdt, silently asking him “What is happening to me?” Only in this moment would Bertholdt have a chance to reminder Reiner who he was. He couldn’t try and put him somewhere secluded and remind him of everything, so he’d always have to silently explain the situation through looks and gestures, hoping that maybe Reiner would catch the hint.

It only worked once. And that was probably because they had been mostly alone, and Annie had been the one to reminder him.

“You’re getting soft, Reiner.” She said flatly as the trio of them sat at dinner, long after the others had left. “This isn’t the warrior I signed up to work with.” Reiner then looked from Annie to Bertholdt and then down at his hands. He saw the blood that had long since dried and he had a moment of clarity before his fists slammed down on the table.

Reiner spent that night in anguish, contemplative and frustrated. Bertholdt had learned that Reiner was never aware of the shift after he had moved on from the first stage. Once stage one was complete, unless Bertholdt’s voice reached him, he just continued to progress. A downward spiral into human identification, and then they might not ever get him back.

Stage four was the worst. This was the stage where no voice could reach him. No pleading or begging or attempt to bring Reiner back to reality could be done. With this stage, Bertholdt had to accept Reiner for who he was until he had his epiphany, telling him that this was not who he was. There was nothing that Bertholdt could do but watch on the sidelines helplessly as Reiner destroyed himself.

Bertholdt had concluded that this was what heartbreak was. It was losing someone in spirit. Not losing them physically. It was knowing that Reiner was right there in front of him, but he could never reach the Reiner he knew. He couldn’t lie with the boy whom he’d grown up with and shared hardships with anymore. He couldn’t hold his hand late at night and talk about their dreams of going home and being reunited with the land they longed for. He couldn’t lie next to him, nostalgic for the days they used to have. The Reiner in front of him was a shifter masquerading as a human, completely forgetting that this was all a show. He’d become so absorbed in the character that the playwright had given up on him. And Bertholdt, as the accompanying actor, was left to keep the show moving along, even when characterization became a bit too real.

He figured somewhere down the line, he made a mistake. Said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Something like that to push Reiner into this new identity. And it stung his very spirit to know that he might have done something to ruin all that they had together. All he wanted was a single chance to sit Reiner down and talk it out. Tell him that he’s sorry that he fucked up somewhere, tell him that he loves him, loves what they have together, and that all he wants out of life is to go home with him. Their home. Not this human catastrophe of a home. _Their home_.

He wanted nothing more than to hold Reiner against him and cry against his shoulder, begging him to remember. Begging him to wake up. And some nights he’d do just that when Reiner slipped into stage four. He’d feel the nauseating pangs of remorse all day and when no one was looking he’d purge his stomach of his nerves and slip into his bunk waiting for Reiner. But of course, Reiner had blocked things out for the time being and he was busying himself with flirting with Christa for all it was worth. And Bertholdt usually was left to go to bed alone, without Reiner to hold him. Even when Reiner wasn’t himself, sleeping in his arms was some form of comfort.

Stage four lasted days at a time, each day, Bertholdt woke with a panic attack, finding Reiner had eventually made his way to their bed. His chest fluttered with ripples of nerves telling him that he was still living in hell and something needed to be done. His head pounded, throbbing with beats that remained caught in his ears. And the chills that prickled along his flesh only further reminded him of the tight achiness in his gut. Reiner was not himself and Bertholdt didn’t know what to do to stop it.

What he did know was that he wanted Reiner back. He wanted to lie down next to him, smiling and holding his hand. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him. Tell him that he would always stay by his side. He wanted Reiner to know that life without him wasn’t the same. He wanted Reiner to be serious when he playfully suggested that Bertholdt marry him. He wanted Reiner. That’s all. He wanted Reiner.

So when Reiner and he shared the bed on those terrifying stage four nights, Bertholdt would often think about taking Reiner for his own. Maybe he would remind him another way. And one time, he actually did.

On a night where usually Reiner would crawl atop Bertholdt and strip him of his clothing, Bertholdt performed the action instead. He hoisted himself up over Reiner and gazed down at him, noting the stunned, although impressed smirk that wove itself on to Reiner’s face.

“This is new.” He said with a chuckle as Bertholdt began to tug up the cloth of his night shirt, yanking it over his head, giving Reiner the chance to remove his arms instead. “Didn’t think being on top was your style.”

“You’re my style.” Bertholdt murmured, eyes glossed over with a sort of saddened acceptance that this might be the only way he could have Reiner for his own again. “Any way I can have you,” he said quietly as he copied the same method Reiner did to him when they slept together. His hands ran along the others chest, memorizing how it might have changed (although this was the first time Bertholdt had ever taken the initiative to top him). His hand slid down over his abdomen, making note of the way the flesh formed into rippled peaks and valleys, before they went up again. Reiner’s chest was broader than his and his pectorals felt larger than they looked as Bertholdt’s fingers delicately brushed against the steadily hardening nipples. Then up to his shoulders which spread out further than Bertholdt’s. His hands stroked over the shoulders and to his biceps, but he hesitated.

“Like this.” Reiner said quietly as he reached up and ran his hands smoothly down from Bertholdt’s shoulders to his hands. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough of one that made Bertholdt’s heart soar. Only when Reiner remembered himself did he touch his arms in that way. Maybe he’d lapsed back into stage three? Or maybe it was a coincidence.

Bertholdt smiled. It was a real, hopeful smile as Reiner lowered his arms to let him continue his work. Bertholdt’s hands ran over Reiner’s shoulders and then along his biceps and then all the way down to his wrists and his hands. His own fingers laced with Reiner’s this time, taking in the roughness of his palms and the cracked flesh upon his knuckles. Sure, they were a soldiers hands, but they were also Reiner’s. Bertholdt, instead of kissing his hands like Reiner did for him, brought one to his face to let Reiner hold his cheek like he often did for the other instead. Reiner stroked Bertholdt’s cheek for a moment before the taller leaned over to kiss him. And like always, the kisses began as delicate pecks, to firm locking of lips. Then on to open mouthed and passionate where Bertholdt took this as his cue to began working on Reiner in the same way he always worked on him.

He’d never heard Reiner groan like that, a hand to his mouth to cover the noises he made as his head slumped to the side of the pillow. Bertholdt’s fingers had pressed inside of him, moving back and forth, curling in and out, doing what he was sure Reiner always did to him. AS he worked, he wondered, didhe make those sounds too? Was he just as noisy? Or was it only Reiner? He suspected Reiner was just noisy since he was positive if he’d been loud, there would have been noise complaints.

The way Reiner’s face shifted from a relax gasping shape to a twisted grimace as Bertholdt’s fingers moved gave him just little enough indication that Reiner was ready. So Bertholdt removed his fingers, and like Reiner did with him, he readied himself quickly and entered him as smoothly as he could. He watched as Reiner’s fists grasped at the sheets around and his body writhed on the bed. Had Bertholt done something wrong? No, sure he couldn’t have. With the way Reiner began to smile after Bertholdt had entered, he felt as if he had done something correctly.

So he pulled back, and pushed in again, and Reiner began to seize again. This time it didn’t concern Bertholdt, as Reiner began to gasp once the taller did it again. And before he could count the number of times he’d repeated the action, his arms were around Reiner’s body and he’d found his rhythm. He was in, then he was out, and then back in again, and Reiner’s arms were around his neck, heavily breathing his name, choking out the syllables like a needy child. There was no conversing this time. Usually Bertholdt found it possible to hold a small conversation with Reiner – no matter how simple – when the two of them were together. But this time no words were shared other than the grunts of the others names as Bertholdt thrust and Reiner twisted about.

“I love you,” Reiner managed to blurt out between gasps, although the words were heavily masked by the thick breaths escaping both men. Bertholdt tensed a bit and felt himself growing closer to the edge. But he’d hold back as long as he could. He wanted to hold on to Reiner for as long as he had the chance. As if finishing, and letting go of him might meant that he would lapse into that fantasy world again, and this might be Bertholdt’s last chance to see him for who he really was.

He slipped a hand between Reiner’s legs and gripped him, tightly but not too tight. Like Reiner always did with him. Always do likes like Reiner does, except for become delusional. His hand moved slowly as the other hand pulled free from around the other man. Like always, he placed his hand upon Reiner’s cheek, feeling his flesh and the warmth beneath it. Reiner pulled at his wrist and pulled him closer, bringing Bertholdt in for a long kiss, his hands combing through the dark hair. Bertholdt found more arousal in the kiss than he did from the entire embrace between them, and he came with a whimpering groan. Reiner came only a few moments after as Bertholdt’s hand finished him off.

Exhausted, Bertholdt pulled out and slumped against Reiner, using his chest as a pillow while Reiner’s arms wrapped around him. “Please remember,” he mouthed softly, hardly making a sound now that they were finished. “Remember me. Remember you..”

Reiner continued to run his hands through Bertholdt’s hair, seeming to have heard those words, knowing where they had come from. He knew what Bertholdt meant, and he understood the worry in the other’s voice.

“Even if I’m long gone,” he said quietly as he held Bertholdt close. “I’ll always remember you.”

For now, that was the best Bertholdt could hope for.


End file.
